‘Barbecue wine’ is a veiled insult used by the likes of Jane MacQuitty when trying to find something nice to say about a brackish £3 red that has nothing to recommend it and that must feature in their columns out of fear of isolating people who aren’t prepared to spend more than £3 on a bottle of wine. (Do such people read wine columns? I ask you.)
Not me though. I take rather decent wine to barbecues, and it was no exception when Tom and Cookie invited me to a spontaneous roof-top barbecue at 1 Old Buildings this afternoon. ‘Barbecue wine’ is the ultimate compliment for liquor chosen to complement some of God’s greatest uses for ground, otherwise nondescript meat – sausages and hamburger patties. And people who dare bring Oddbins Own Red to such religious occasions deserve a jolly good knee-capping and a lesson in robust reds from the south of France and Italy.
2003 Domaine du Joncier Lirac (£9) is mid red, with a classic Southern Rhone nose of pepper, purple fruits and sour cherries. The palate is at once spicy and savoury, but at the same time with attractive, peachy undertones on the mid palate, finishing with a hint of minerality.
2005 Piarncornello Poggio dei Leicci Rosso di Toscana (£10) is translucent purple. The nose shows cherry sherbet, almonds, and cherry liqueur. The entry is sweet and woody with a vanillin palate, spicy oak and chipper tannins.
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Saturday, 21 April 2007
Friday afternoon miscellany
Here are a few notes about what I’ve been drinking so far this weekend. I’m going up to my old college ball tonight, so unfortunately that means my Saturday drinking will consist entirely of seedy cocktails made from rotten fruit, cheap rum, and served in plastic cups. Nevertheless, this small Friday afternoon bracket more than makes up for what I will have to deal with this evening.
2003 Amayna Chardonnay (San Antonio Valley, Chile, £17)
When as a kid we used to go on long driving holidays through places like Gundagai, we used to stay at country town Motor Inns – the sort of place that boasted having ‘COLOUR TV’ as one of the facilities. The breakfast menus at these places used to offer, quite incredulously, ‘Compote of Fruit’, which was code for an ungenerous spoonful of tinned fruit salad with little cubes of some sort of yellow fruit (peach?) some sort of white fruit (pear?) and cherries, coated in thick syrup. Back then I thought this was the poshest thing in the world (I was probably 4 at the time). I was devastated when I eventually learned that ‘compote’ is a legitimate culinary term that should evoke orchard-fresh fruit lovingly combined with sugar and spice and all things nice and slowly reduced in a copper pot atop an environmentally unfriendly Aga in the kitchen of a 17th century stone cottage, that had been fraudulently deployed when used to describe fruit salad ladled out of a 5 litre tin by a stinking man in a wife beater. Anyway, this wine has a weirdly fruity nose of rhubarb and cream, toasted marshmallows, and – there it was on sniff number 3 – Gundagai Motor Inn Compote of Fruit. Then there are aromas of baked fruit – possibly even a caramelised apple/tarte tatin character. Only when you taste it do you realise it is an alcoholic beverage (very much so at 14.5%) – with a fleshy palate, bordering on the flabby. Yes, it does taste like a Chardonnay (and a good and interesting one) but to my mind not acidic enough to deal with the Golden Circle train wreck that is the wine’s opening gambit.
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (Stellenbosch, South Africa, £17)
Now I’m not the world’s biggest fan of either Chenin Blanc or South African wine, but I do like this (indeed I’ve liked the vast majority of Jean Daneel wines I’ve tried), and it is allegedly the best Chenin produced in South Africa. Nose of butter and caramel, with dried apples in the background and that characteristic South African pong (which, in fairness, is very faint and you only notice on the first sniff). The palate is ripe and full, with caramel, apricots, viscous melons and butter, and a searing acid finish leaving a hint of caramel behind it. It is, however, a very attention-seeking wine (at 15% alcohol), made almost as if it’s there to prove a point, and you do have to concentrate very hard on it. I’m not sure I could drink this wine and hold a conversation with someone at the same time.
2004 Jean Luc Colombo Crozes Hermitage ‘La Tuilière’ (£12)
This is the third Jean Luc Colombo wine I’ve tried in the last week or so, and although they are all quite good wines the opinion I’ve formed is that they’re rather characterless. The white Cotes du Rhone is quite didactic in the way it sets out benchmark viognier characters. ‘Benchmark’ is one of these words that looks like a compliment when it isn’t one. Although the initial sentiment is that it is something by which others are judged, the implicit sentiment is that one is always hoping to come across something better. Just as the Cotes du Rhone was benchmark viognier, this was benchmark Crozes Hermitage. Nose of white pepper, and forward red fruit, perhaps even a little confected. The palate leads with black peppercorns and straight forward, clean red fruit. Well made, but ultimately not a wine for showing off. The sort of wine that could fairly be included in a blind tasting match, but that you just don’t get that excited about having a second glass of.
2001 Marchesi de Frescobaldi Castel Giocondo Brunello di Montalcino (£30)
This was presented to me blind, and to think that Marc quibbled with my identification of it as being a Tuscan Sangiovese. Is Brunello not another word for Sangiovese? Can anyone tell me definitively whether these are merely synonyms, or if there is actually a botanical difference between Brunello and Sangiovese? Anyway, that’s beside the point. The wine is a lustrous red. A nose of cherries, chocolate, fragrant lavender, anise, and a hint of cedarwood. The palate is less complex than the nose might lead you to expect, but is big and full, fruit driven and chocolatey, finishing with full, ripe tannins. A really impressive wine.
But my favourite wine of the day was the second Tuscan Sangiovese I tried, a 1999 Le Fioraie Chianti Classico. Perhaps I was just a bit excited that I had bought some bottles for £10 each, a substantial discount from its usual price, or that maybe I just like a mature old-style Chianti Classico, but it was just lovely. Subtly perfumed nose of dried and fresh cherries. Smooth, full palate, creamy, with cherry liqueur and a slight charry/cigarry dimension, supported by supple fruit and ripe tannins. My flatmate Andy said it reminded him of those little ‘Campino’ strawberries-and-cream lollies you can get on the continent, and I think he’s exactly right. It’s probably at the peak of its maturity now, and even after being open for about two hours it began to turn a little sour, so drink up now.
2003 Amayna Chardonnay (San Antonio Valley, Chile, £17)
When as a kid we used to go on long driving holidays through places like Gundagai, we used to stay at country town Motor Inns – the sort of place that boasted having ‘COLOUR TV’ as one of the facilities. The breakfast menus at these places used to offer, quite incredulously, ‘Compote of Fruit’, which was code for an ungenerous spoonful of tinned fruit salad with little cubes of some sort of yellow fruit (peach?) some sort of white fruit (pear?) and cherries, coated in thick syrup. Back then I thought this was the poshest thing in the world (I was probably 4 at the time). I was devastated when I eventually learned that ‘compote’ is a legitimate culinary term that should evoke orchard-fresh fruit lovingly combined with sugar and spice and all things nice and slowly reduced in a copper pot atop an environmentally unfriendly Aga in the kitchen of a 17th century stone cottage, that had been fraudulently deployed when used to describe fruit salad ladled out of a 5 litre tin by a stinking man in a wife beater. Anyway, this wine has a weirdly fruity nose of rhubarb and cream, toasted marshmallows, and – there it was on sniff number 3 – Gundagai Motor Inn Compote of Fruit. Then there are aromas of baked fruit – possibly even a caramelised apple/tarte tatin character. Only when you taste it do you realise it is an alcoholic beverage (very much so at 14.5%) – with a fleshy palate, bordering on the flabby. Yes, it does taste like a Chardonnay (and a good and interesting one) but to my mind not acidic enough to deal with the Golden Circle train wreck that is the wine’s opening gambit.
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (Stellenbosch, South Africa, £17)
Now I’m not the world’s biggest fan of either Chenin Blanc or South African wine, but I do like this (indeed I’ve liked the vast majority of Jean Daneel wines I’ve tried), and it is allegedly the best Chenin produced in South Africa. Nose of butter and caramel, with dried apples in the background and that characteristic South African pong (which, in fairness, is very faint and you only notice on the first sniff). The palate is ripe and full, with caramel, apricots, viscous melons and butter, and a searing acid finish leaving a hint of caramel behind it. It is, however, a very attention-seeking wine (at 15% alcohol), made almost as if it’s there to prove a point, and you do have to concentrate very hard on it. I’m not sure I could drink this wine and hold a conversation with someone at the same time.
2004 Jean Luc Colombo Crozes Hermitage ‘La Tuilière’ (£12)
This is the third Jean Luc Colombo wine I’ve tried in the last week or so, and although they are all quite good wines the opinion I’ve formed is that they’re rather characterless. The white Cotes du Rhone is quite didactic in the way it sets out benchmark viognier characters. ‘Benchmark’ is one of these words that looks like a compliment when it isn’t one. Although the initial sentiment is that it is something by which others are judged, the implicit sentiment is that one is always hoping to come across something better. Just as the Cotes du Rhone was benchmark viognier, this was benchmark Crozes Hermitage. Nose of white pepper, and forward red fruit, perhaps even a little confected. The palate leads with black peppercorns and straight forward, clean red fruit. Well made, but ultimately not a wine for showing off. The sort of wine that could fairly be included in a blind tasting match, but that you just don’t get that excited about having a second glass of.
2001 Marchesi de Frescobaldi Castel Giocondo Brunello di Montalcino (£30)
This was presented to me blind, and to think that Marc quibbled with my identification of it as being a Tuscan Sangiovese. Is Brunello not another word for Sangiovese? Can anyone tell me definitively whether these are merely synonyms, or if there is actually a botanical difference between Brunello and Sangiovese? Anyway, that’s beside the point. The wine is a lustrous red. A nose of cherries, chocolate, fragrant lavender, anise, and a hint of cedarwood. The palate is less complex than the nose might lead you to expect, but is big and full, fruit driven and chocolatey, finishing with full, ripe tannins. A really impressive wine.
But my favourite wine of the day was the second Tuscan Sangiovese I tried, a 1999 Le Fioraie Chianti Classico. Perhaps I was just a bit excited that I had bought some bottles for £10 each, a substantial discount from its usual price, or that maybe I just like a mature old-style Chianti Classico, but it was just lovely. Subtly perfumed nose of dried and fresh cherries. Smooth, full palate, creamy, with cherry liqueur and a slight charry/cigarry dimension, supported by supple fruit and ripe tannins. My flatmate Andy said it reminded him of those little ‘Campino’ strawberries-and-cream lollies you can get on the continent, and I think he’s exactly right. It’s probably at the peak of its maturity now, and even after being open for about two hours it began to turn a little sour, so drink up now.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Wednesday Chablis
A couple of weeks ago I drank a 2005 Domaine d’Elise Chablis at a picnic, but did not provide a proper note for it. Now is that time, as I had time to properly consider it before dinner yesterday evening.
The wine is light and bright in colour, with a greenish tinge. The nose shows nuts, butter and grape fruit. The palate is tight and fine, with up front citrus flavours, an underlying butteriness and cleansing acid. On opening up in the glass, the nose and palate show characteristic wet-stone minerality. The finish is lingering with faint nut and caramel notes. An elegant, well-made, classic Chablis.
The wine is light and bright in colour, with a greenish tinge. The nose shows nuts, butter and grape fruit. The palate is tight and fine, with up front citrus flavours, an underlying butteriness and cleansing acid. On opening up in the glass, the nose and palate show characteristic wet-stone minerality. The finish is lingering with faint nut and caramel notes. An elegant, well-made, classic Chablis.
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Tuesday afternoon Burgundy
It's not every day that one's wine merchant offers one a glass of top red Burgundy simply on account of showing up to pick up a case of wine. Shame. Today, however, was one such happy day.
The 2000 Domaine Denis Mortet Gevrey Chambertin is bright red with startling clarity. The nose is powerful and fragrant: lavender, plums, herbs, nuts and raisins. The palate is pure, elegant and red-fruit driven, finishing with supple tannins and even a hint of fruit cake on the finish. The wine is beginning to age very well, with every element well integrated into the fabric of the wine. When people think of 'fine wine' this is what they are thinking of. Understated without being green, powerful without being blowsy or boring. Pure, focussed, flavour.
The 2000 Domaine Denis Mortet Gevrey Chambertin is bright red with startling clarity. The nose is powerful and fragrant: lavender, plums, herbs, nuts and raisins. The palate is pure, elegant and red-fruit driven, finishing with supple tannins and even a hint of fruit cake on the finish. The wine is beginning to age very well, with every element well integrated into the fabric of the wine. When people think of 'fine wine' this is what they are thinking of. Understated without being green, powerful without being blowsy or boring. Pure, focussed, flavour.
Monday, 16 April 2007
A romp through the Rhone Valley
Two exciting things happened at Lincoln’s Inn yesterday. The first was the shooting of the BBC’s new production of Sense and Sensibility. But even more exciting was that fact that we inhabitants moved our dining room table out into the middle of Old Buildings and conducted a tasting of Rhone Valley wines from about 4pm til we couldn’t stand up any more.
We started with a bracket of whites, each surprisingly different in style. A Condrieu or Chateau-Grillet was out of the question price-wise so we began with a 2004 Jean-Luc Colombo Cotes du Rhone ‘Les Figuières’ (70% Viognier, 30% Roussanne) which portrayed its varietal composition didactically. The wine has a heady nose of apricots and almonds. The palate follows: viscous, sweaty, with a nutty, agreeably bitter finish. Not a complex wine, but a well-made, more-ish one.
Alongside it was the 2004 Stephan Chaboud St Peray (80% Marsanne, 20% Roussanne). An intense nose with PVC glue, orange, varnish and spicy oak, if a little bit ‘woodchippy’. The palate is full bodied, with nutty almond characters and a fine acid finish. The wine can appear aggressive, and I would not recommend it without food, which should help to keep the chemically elements of this wine in abeyance. Sainsbury’s Local on High Holborn was selling free range chooks for £2.99 earlier in the day, so I shoved one in the oven at about 7pm, and served it an hour or so later with new potatoes in parsley butter. The St Peray was a great match – so much so that it makes me wonder if there is any point in Chardonnay any more. Poor Chardonnay, useless as an aperitif, outshone by so many other varieties in most food matching, at least it and roast chicken would stay friends for ever. Well, not so, apparently. It now has at least one serious competitor in that department.
The whites finished with a 2005 Domaine de Cassan Cotes du Rhone (30% each of Roussanne, Grenache Blanc and Clairette, 10% Viognier), which really split the punters. I liked it, maybe not as much as the other two though. A fresh nose of minerals, lime, apples, orange sherbet and mandarin peel. It’s like a vinous version of Fanta. The palate shows light, expressive, fruity flavours of apricot and peach. Perhaps a little bitter on the finish. What I like about it is how much it proves there is variety in Rhone Valley whites. They’re not all viscous, nutty, and many-chinned. This wine exhibited a zing to it more common in a young Riesling.
The reds began with a 2004 Jean-Luc Colombo St Joseph ‘Le Prieuré’. It was purple, with black pepper and sour cherries on the nose, and, after time, a disagreeable element of smoke and car exhaust. The mid-weight palate is driven by straight forward cherry fruit, ending with bright acid and a hint of bitterness. I probably wouldn’t complain if someone served me this wine, but at £13-odd it tested my patience. Beside it, I served a 2004 Chapoutier Crozes Hermitage ‘Les Meysonnières’, which I reviewed last week, and which went to show that the Northern Rhone really did have stuff going for it.
Here is where you should be reading a review of 2000 René Balthazar Cornas and a 2003 Domaine du Joncier Lirac, but they didn’t arrive in time, thanks to the incompetence of certain merchants who I won’t name, because I otherwise like their work.
Instead, you can read about the far less interesting 2004 Santa Duc Vin de Pays de Vaucluse, and 2004 Les Aphillanthes Cotes du Rhone, bought at the last minute. The Vin de Pays was purple with a spicy, oaky nose. Forward fruit was the idea behind the palate, with blackberries and spicy oak, which, if I didn’t know better, I might allege to be American. The Cotes du Rhone was mid-red. The nose showed forward, fruity red cherries and liquorice characters. The palate follows with soft, slightly confected red fruits and a hint of spice on the finish. Some nice grip in the tannin department. Altogether two rather decent work-horse wines, that I might serve at a wedding where nobody is really paying attention to the wine, but far too prepared to complain if it’s crap.
We then interluded with a 2004 Domaine du Père Caboche Chateauneuf du Pape – one of the few domaines to use all 13 permitted grape varieties in its blend. And can’t you tell! Translucent mid red, the nose is highly fragrant, showing violets, red fruits and soft chocolate tones. The palate is very supple, slightly vegetal, with fragrant flowery notes on the finish and even a hint of apricot. A beautifully balanced wine.
The tasting came to an end with two of my favourites for the afternoon, a 2004 La Bastide Saint Vincent ‘Pavane’ Vacqueyras (70% Syrah, 15% Mourvèdre, 15% Carignan) and a 2000 Domaine la Bouissiere Gigondas (70% Grenache, 30% Syrah). The Vacqueyras was dark purple, with spicy coffee and caramel on the nose, as well as plum jam. The palate was round and fruity, with fresh acid and a prominent tannin finish. In a way though, it was overshadowed by the Gigondas, which was really the wine of the afternoon in my view. Beginning to move from purple to a brickish red in colour, the densely layered nose shows brandy, cinnamon, liquorice, jam, caramel and lavender. The palate is full and complex, driven by black-pepper, with intense dried fruits, finishing very dry with lingering, gripping tannins. It really was an injustice to drink it this young – no doubt the wine will be very fine indeed when the wine will move from being like a game of ‘spotto’ with primary flavours, into a more complex, elusive amalgam of developed bouquet and palate. But still, a privilege to drink at any time.
We started with a bracket of whites, each surprisingly different in style. A Condrieu or Chateau-Grillet was out of the question price-wise so we began with a 2004 Jean-Luc Colombo Cotes du Rhone ‘Les Figuières’ (70% Viognier, 30% Roussanne) which portrayed its varietal composition didactically. The wine has a heady nose of apricots and almonds. The palate follows: viscous, sweaty, with a nutty, agreeably bitter finish. Not a complex wine, but a well-made, more-ish one.
Alongside it was the 2004 Stephan Chaboud St Peray (80% Marsanne, 20% Roussanne). An intense nose with PVC glue, orange, varnish and spicy oak, if a little bit ‘woodchippy’. The palate is full bodied, with nutty almond characters and a fine acid finish. The wine can appear aggressive, and I would not recommend it without food, which should help to keep the chemically elements of this wine in abeyance. Sainsbury’s Local on High Holborn was selling free range chooks for £2.99 earlier in the day, so I shoved one in the oven at about 7pm, and served it an hour or so later with new potatoes in parsley butter. The St Peray was a great match – so much so that it makes me wonder if there is any point in Chardonnay any more. Poor Chardonnay, useless as an aperitif, outshone by so many other varieties in most food matching, at least it and roast chicken would stay friends for ever. Well, not so, apparently. It now has at least one serious competitor in that department.
The whites finished with a 2005 Domaine de Cassan Cotes du Rhone (30% each of Roussanne, Grenache Blanc and Clairette, 10% Viognier), which really split the punters. I liked it, maybe not as much as the other two though. A fresh nose of minerals, lime, apples, orange sherbet and mandarin peel. It’s like a vinous version of Fanta. The palate shows light, expressive, fruity flavours of apricot and peach. Perhaps a little bitter on the finish. What I like about it is how much it proves there is variety in Rhone Valley whites. They’re not all viscous, nutty, and many-chinned. This wine exhibited a zing to it more common in a young Riesling.
The reds began with a 2004 Jean-Luc Colombo St Joseph ‘Le Prieuré’. It was purple, with black pepper and sour cherries on the nose, and, after time, a disagreeable element of smoke and car exhaust. The mid-weight palate is driven by straight forward cherry fruit, ending with bright acid and a hint of bitterness. I probably wouldn’t complain if someone served me this wine, but at £13-odd it tested my patience. Beside it, I served a 2004 Chapoutier Crozes Hermitage ‘Les Meysonnières’, which I reviewed last week, and which went to show that the Northern Rhone really did have stuff going for it.
Here is where you should be reading a review of 2000 René Balthazar Cornas and a 2003 Domaine du Joncier Lirac, but they didn’t arrive in time, thanks to the incompetence of certain merchants who I won’t name, because I otherwise like their work.
Instead, you can read about the far less interesting 2004 Santa Duc Vin de Pays de Vaucluse, and 2004 Les Aphillanthes Cotes du Rhone, bought at the last minute. The Vin de Pays was purple with a spicy, oaky nose. Forward fruit was the idea behind the palate, with blackberries and spicy oak, which, if I didn’t know better, I might allege to be American. The Cotes du Rhone was mid-red. The nose showed forward, fruity red cherries and liquorice characters. The palate follows with soft, slightly confected red fruits and a hint of spice on the finish. Some nice grip in the tannin department. Altogether two rather decent work-horse wines, that I might serve at a wedding where nobody is really paying attention to the wine, but far too prepared to complain if it’s crap.
We then interluded with a 2004 Domaine du Père Caboche Chateauneuf du Pape – one of the few domaines to use all 13 permitted grape varieties in its blend. And can’t you tell! Translucent mid red, the nose is highly fragrant, showing violets, red fruits and soft chocolate tones. The palate is very supple, slightly vegetal, with fragrant flowery notes on the finish and even a hint of apricot. A beautifully balanced wine.
The tasting came to an end with two of my favourites for the afternoon, a 2004 La Bastide Saint Vincent ‘Pavane’ Vacqueyras (70% Syrah, 15% Mourvèdre, 15% Carignan) and a 2000 Domaine la Bouissiere Gigondas (70% Grenache, 30% Syrah). The Vacqueyras was dark purple, with spicy coffee and caramel on the nose, as well as plum jam. The palate was round and fruity, with fresh acid and a prominent tannin finish. In a way though, it was overshadowed by the Gigondas, which was really the wine of the afternoon in my view. Beginning to move from purple to a brickish red in colour, the densely layered nose shows brandy, cinnamon, liquorice, jam, caramel and lavender. The palate is full and complex, driven by black-pepper, with intense dried fruits, finishing very dry with lingering, gripping tannins. It really was an injustice to drink it this young – no doubt the wine will be very fine indeed when the wine will move from being like a game of ‘spotto’ with primary flavours, into a more complex, elusive amalgam of developed bouquet and palate. But still, a privilege to drink at any time.
Friday, 13 April 2007
Two Pouilly Fuisses
Apparently a lot of Oddbins are to be re-branded Nicolas, allegedly because market research reveals that people can't tell the difference between Oddbins (bog-standard but aspirational wine shop attempting to mark itself out as 'wine specialist') and Threshers (ultra-budget worse-than-middle-of-the-road wine shop). 'Re-branding' says it all - there isn't really a difference between Nicolas and Oddbins (other than the former doesn't deign to sell as much new world wine). Yet people are prepared to pay more money for the same wine at Nicolas, what with its connotations of old-world connoisseurship. Walking away with the satisfaction of having been looked down the shop assistant's nose at means you simply must have bought something good.
This, of course, is complete crap.
Nicolas in Bloomsbury sells 2004 Les Vieux Murs Pouilly Fuisse at around £12. The nose is a little nutty and melony, with a hint of river stones. The palate is inoffensive and a bit grapefruity. Eminently ordinary, this is a wine for convalescents, or those with head-colds.
Around the corner on New Oxford Street, Planet of the Grapes (a no-nonsense independent wine retailer, which, I should say in the interests of full disclosure is my favourite London wine shop) sells 2004 Domaine Roches "Des Personnets" Pouilly Fuisse for £10, or £96 for a case of 12. And I can tell you the difference is extraordinary. The nose leaps out of the glass to greet you, laden with vanilla, caramel, nuts, a hint of orange, rockmelon, and the green end of a spring onion. The palate is full, rich, with a silky hint of oyster and a polite, if slightly short, citrussy finish. Complex. Outstanding value. A far better wine, a substantially cheaper price.
One of the many problems with wine is its association with elitism etc bla blah we all know that one. But it stuns me to think that within the industry there are segments attempting to entrench that attitude, and, worse, consumers who are prepared to fall for it. So what if people think Oddbins is Threshers? Maybe they will get a nice surprise when they buy a decent bottle of wine there (easy to do at Oddbins - almost impossible at Threshers). But to want to re-brand to sell the same wine to people who want to pay more for the same thing? I don't know which out of the company or the consumer is more to blame. Perhaps they deserve each other. The last thing I want is demand pushing prices at my local independent retailer up.
This, of course, is complete crap.
Nicolas in Bloomsbury sells 2004 Les Vieux Murs Pouilly Fuisse at around £12. The nose is a little nutty and melony, with a hint of river stones. The palate is inoffensive and a bit grapefruity. Eminently ordinary, this is a wine for convalescents, or those with head-colds.
Around the corner on New Oxford Street, Planet of the Grapes (a no-nonsense independent wine retailer, which, I should say in the interests of full disclosure is my favourite London wine shop) sells 2004 Domaine Roches "Des Personnets" Pouilly Fuisse for £10, or £96 for a case of 12. And I can tell you the difference is extraordinary. The nose leaps out of the glass to greet you, laden with vanilla, caramel, nuts, a hint of orange, rockmelon, and the green end of a spring onion. The palate is full, rich, with a silky hint of oyster and a polite, if slightly short, citrussy finish. Complex. Outstanding value. A far better wine, a substantially cheaper price.
One of the many problems with wine is its association with elitism etc bla blah we all know that one. But it stuns me to think that within the industry there are segments attempting to entrench that attitude, and, worse, consumers who are prepared to fall for it. So what if people think Oddbins is Threshers? Maybe they will get a nice surprise when they buy a decent bottle of wine there (easy to do at Oddbins - almost impossible at Threshers). But to want to re-brand to sell the same wine to people who want to pay more for the same thing? I don't know which out of the company or the consumer is more to blame. Perhaps they deserve each other. The last thing I want is demand pushing prices at my local independent retailer up.
Sunday, 8 April 2007
Easter Long Weekend Wines
Knowing what wine to take with you when you go away for the weekend is tricky. This weekend I took a 2005 Chapoutier "Les Meysonnieres" Crozes Hermitage and a 2004 Domaine d'Elise Chablis with me when I went up to Oxford for the Easter Break. Chances are there was going to be at least one opportunity each for white and red over the course of the weekend - beyond that I simply had to gamble that my choices would be suitable.
Friday went to plan. Neil cooked dinner - roast chicken legs, pigs in blankets, rosemary potatoes, caramelised carrots. Rustic, comforting food called for a rustic wine (and also I was road testing a wine for next week's Rhone Valley tasting), so the Crozes Hermitage was opened. Smoky, peppery, nose. Savoury, meaty palate, white pepper, bacon, red fruit, and river water, finishing with very pronounced, lingering tannins, even after substantial time to breathe. Ever since Andy decided that the last Rhone wine I served him tasted like river water I've tasted nothing but on anything from the Rhone, particularly Crozes Hermitage. Amazing. Usually the only red wine that reminds me of river water or river pebbles is Bordeaux from St Estephe, but now that it has been pointed out to me it seems to be a pretty good way of describing Crozes Hermitage. Crozes is a wine that I've always thought of as salty, bacony, often with a red-fruit palate with a bit of leanness or steeliness to it and I think that river water falls into line with that flavour profile. So well done Andy.
Neil put me in charge of cooking salmon for dinner on Saturday. Here's where I could make the Chablis shine - I was toying with poaching it, or maybe serving it with pesto mash or some sort of cream sauce. But oh, no, the boy had to mention that he had a knob of ginger and a bag of red chillies, so of course the gauntlet had been thrown down to concoct a preparation with a nod to Asia in it. I decided to steam it with spring onions, lime, ginger, garlic, chillies, sesame seeds and soy sauce. But so doing eliminated any possibility of serving it with a nutty, layered Chablis. What that dish needed was something crisp, overtly fruity, lean, and with naively high acidity. Oddbins on High St Oxford has an appalling range of Rieslings, so, enamoured with the Loire Valley, as I have been of late, what with daylight saving starting, I purchased a bottle of 2005 Domaine Lebrun Pouilly Fume and gave that a try instead. Very pale. Delicate, pristine nose of passion fruit, apple, pear, gooseberry and white honey. The palate is austere, flinty, clean, smoky, with a chalky finish. After a while in the glass it settles down, and begins to show softer fruit on the nose - honeydew melon and pears - and river water (again!) on the palate. I rather preferred it just as it was when it was opened. Initially invigorating, it gets a bit lazy over time, which made finishing the bottle a bit of a bore. Nevertheless, the wine's initial optimism was appealing, and matched the fish very well (if I do say so myself).
That left the Chablis for today's picnic. We contributed goose rillettes and a pork and apricot pie to the festivities, which went well with the wine. You don't get a tasting note (I was at a picnic for fuck's sake), but it tasted like Chablis. Instead you get a rant. This week I rant about the problem of "picnic wine leeches". Much like dinner party wine leeches, these are people who bring crap wine to the picnic (or dinner party) and then drink your much nicer wine when they get there. This is grossly unfair. I had about one glass of Chablis before I had to revert to Banrock Station Chardonnay if I wished to continue drinking. (I passed). At least the owner of the Banrock Station was honest - "I brought this" she said "but give me a glass of yours, it's much nicer." "Piss off" said the voice in my head. "Of course, allow me to pour you one" said the idiot voice that came out of my head. There should be a rule that you must drink all of what you bring yourself to a picnic before asking others for a glass of what they brought. It's like the way little kiddies have to eat all their broccoli, and then they get some ice cream. Drink your Banrock Station crap, then I'll consider giving you some Chablis. More for us in the mean time. I think there would be considerable advantages to this scheme. First, it would prevent the current punishment of those who do bring nice wine to picnics. But second, it would encourage the leeches to bring something nice in the first place - since as they know they're going to be lumped with drinking it in the first place they would probably wan to make that experience as pleasant as they can stand. Unfortunately that is a scheme I can only dream for. At least the current orthodoxy prevented me from getting too pissed before the egg-and-spoon race.
Friday went to plan. Neil cooked dinner - roast chicken legs, pigs in blankets, rosemary potatoes, caramelised carrots. Rustic, comforting food called for a rustic wine (and also I was road testing a wine for next week's Rhone Valley tasting), so the Crozes Hermitage was opened. Smoky, peppery, nose. Savoury, meaty palate, white pepper, bacon, red fruit, and river water, finishing with very pronounced, lingering tannins, even after substantial time to breathe. Ever since Andy decided that the last Rhone wine I served him tasted like river water I've tasted nothing but on anything from the Rhone, particularly Crozes Hermitage. Amazing. Usually the only red wine that reminds me of river water or river pebbles is Bordeaux from St Estephe, but now that it has been pointed out to me it seems to be a pretty good way of describing Crozes Hermitage. Crozes is a wine that I've always thought of as salty, bacony, often with a red-fruit palate with a bit of leanness or steeliness to it and I think that river water falls into line with that flavour profile. So well done Andy.
Neil put me in charge of cooking salmon for dinner on Saturday. Here's where I could make the Chablis shine - I was toying with poaching it, or maybe serving it with pesto mash or some sort of cream sauce. But oh, no, the boy had to mention that he had a knob of ginger and a bag of red chillies, so of course the gauntlet had been thrown down to concoct a preparation with a nod to Asia in it. I decided to steam it with spring onions, lime, ginger, garlic, chillies, sesame seeds and soy sauce. But so doing eliminated any possibility of serving it with a nutty, layered Chablis. What that dish needed was something crisp, overtly fruity, lean, and with naively high acidity. Oddbins on High St Oxford has an appalling range of Rieslings, so, enamoured with the Loire Valley, as I have been of late, what with daylight saving starting, I purchased a bottle of 2005 Domaine Lebrun Pouilly Fume and gave that a try instead. Very pale. Delicate, pristine nose of passion fruit, apple, pear, gooseberry and white honey. The palate is austere, flinty, clean, smoky, with a chalky finish. After a while in the glass it settles down, and begins to show softer fruit on the nose - honeydew melon and pears - and river water (again!) on the palate. I rather preferred it just as it was when it was opened. Initially invigorating, it gets a bit lazy over time, which made finishing the bottle a bit of a bore. Nevertheless, the wine's initial optimism was appealing, and matched the fish very well (if I do say so myself).
That left the Chablis for today's picnic. We contributed goose rillettes and a pork and apricot pie to the festivities, which went well with the wine. You don't get a tasting note (I was at a picnic for fuck's sake), but it tasted like Chablis. Instead you get a rant. This week I rant about the problem of "picnic wine leeches". Much like dinner party wine leeches, these are people who bring crap wine to the picnic (or dinner party) and then drink your much nicer wine when they get there. This is grossly unfair. I had about one glass of Chablis before I had to revert to Banrock Station Chardonnay if I wished to continue drinking. (I passed). At least the owner of the Banrock Station was honest - "I brought this" she said "but give me a glass of yours, it's much nicer." "Piss off" said the voice in my head. "Of course, allow me to pour you one" said the idiot voice that came out of my head. There should be a rule that you must drink all of what you bring yourself to a picnic before asking others for a glass of what they brought. It's like the way little kiddies have to eat all their broccoli, and then they get some ice cream. Drink your Banrock Station crap, then I'll consider giving you some Chablis. More for us in the mean time. I think there would be considerable advantages to this scheme. First, it would prevent the current punishment of those who do bring nice wine to picnics. But second, it would encourage the leeches to bring something nice in the first place - since as they know they're going to be lumped with drinking it in the first place they would probably wan to make that experience as pleasant as they can stand. Unfortunately that is a scheme I can only dream for. At least the current orthodoxy prevented me from getting too pissed before the egg-and-spoon race.
Monday, 2 April 2007
Lucian's Housewarming
A friend of mine knows a mind-boggling amount about wine. The other day he held my kind of party - wine only, shitloads of good stuff, and blind tasting for those of us so inclined. I stumped him by bringing a bottle of 2004 Henri Milan "Le Grand Blanc" blind (60% Grenache Blanc, 40% Rolle) - a ripper of a wine from Provence. Dried herbs, rosemary, mint, and pork scratchings on the nose; a heavily extracted palate of glue, honey and mint. That only incurred his wrath and I was repaid in kind with a string of ridiculously un-gettable white blends from Rhone grapes. Anyway, once we were too drunk to care, we got onto the really good stuff. A 2003 Trimbach Riesling and a 1994 Dr Loosen MSR Spatlase reminded me of everything that is good about Riesling.
Anyway, I couldn't possibly catalogue all the wines we got through (I had neither the time nor the inclination to scribble away in the corner all evening), but here are a few notes on some of the gems of the evening.
2004 Forges "Le Clos du Papillon" Savennieres
My readers well know my annoyance with Chenin Blanc. It's not so much that I don't like it (although it is responsible for some bloody God-awful wines), it's more that you never know what you're going to get with it. Get an awful one and you never want to drink wine again; get a great one and you want to drink nothing but. Well, this one is an absolute star. The nose is utterly incredible. It's like a liquid Cadbury Crunchie bar. Intense honeycomb, seductive chocolate. On the palate it's full, fatty, and as greasy as a pizza chef after a 16 hour shift. The finish is chalky and acidic; an austere finish so different from the opening that all it does is make you want to go back to the beginning and do it all over again (which of course I did). More, please!
1998 Balbi Malbec Shiraz
Justin has a habit of bringing curve-ball wines to blind tastings. Sometimes it's fun - like when he brought Blue Nun to a blind tasting last year - that dispatched a few ego balloons that needed bursting. But most of the time it's just annoying (in a pleasant way, I suppose) not to be able to pick what it is. Everyone else had cautiously alleged this wine to be a Pinot. Yes, the colour was light, but to my mind that was age. It's dangerous to label any light red wine "Pinot". Sure, Pinot has an incredible flavour spectrum, but it is almost never without a certain leanness that I call "stalky" to perennial blank faces. Anyway, I knew this wasn't a Pinot, but I was wrong in a completely different way. Raisins on the nose, a cabernet like palate of cassis and cedar wood, but tasting as if it's best days were only just behind it. A lesser left-bank Bordeaux, perhaps? No, an Argentinian Malbec. There you have it. Annoyingly we were all required to guess the price. £8? £12 (my guess)? £18? No, apparently £4, heavily discounted from the University Club's bin end sale! Bastard.
2001 Roda II Rioja Riserva
Have you ever wanted to take the good stuff from one wine you like and discard the crap in favour of the good element of another wine you like? I have. I love the warmth of Rioja, the smooth, hospitable palate of plums and chocolate. But I don't much care for American oak. It just makes the wine taste horsey, bitter and even a little sour. So hats of to this wine, matured as it is in French oak. What a wise choice. Brick red (no rusty oxidation here!), brickish, chocolatey nose with a hint of orange peel. The palate is warm and seductive and ends with the most elegant of tannins, rather than Don Quixote's socks.
2005 Marigny-Neuf Cabernet (Haut-Poitou)
Who says you can't make a silk purse out of the sow's ear that is Cabernet Franc? This is a great wine. It tastes like a full-blown cabernet from the new world somewhere (Chile, maybe?) The skill is that maximum extraction from the grapes has been achieved, whilst maintaining balance. Quite lovely.
1988 Quinta de la Rosa Vintage Port
Another one courtesy of Justin, and a lovely way to end the evening. Raisins, cinnamon and hot cross buns on the nose. Forward sweet fruit and Christmas cake on the palate.
I remember now (2 days after the event) that there was a lovely Vin Doux Naturel that I wanted to review but I didn't take a note of it. It tasted like sherry.
Anyway that's all for now - any of my other friends moving any time soon?
Anyway, I couldn't possibly catalogue all the wines we got through (I had neither the time nor the inclination to scribble away in the corner all evening), but here are a few notes on some of the gems of the evening.
2004 Forges "Le Clos du Papillon" Savennieres
My readers well know my annoyance with Chenin Blanc. It's not so much that I don't like it (although it is responsible for some bloody God-awful wines), it's more that you never know what you're going to get with it. Get an awful one and you never want to drink wine again; get a great one and you want to drink nothing but. Well, this one is an absolute star. The nose is utterly incredible. It's like a liquid Cadbury Crunchie bar. Intense honeycomb, seductive chocolate. On the palate it's full, fatty, and as greasy as a pizza chef after a 16 hour shift. The finish is chalky and acidic; an austere finish so different from the opening that all it does is make you want to go back to the beginning and do it all over again (which of course I did). More, please!
1998 Balbi Malbec Shiraz
Justin has a habit of bringing curve-ball wines to blind tastings. Sometimes it's fun - like when he brought Blue Nun to a blind tasting last year - that dispatched a few ego balloons that needed bursting. But most of the time it's just annoying (in a pleasant way, I suppose) not to be able to pick what it is. Everyone else had cautiously alleged this wine to be a Pinot. Yes, the colour was light, but to my mind that was age. It's dangerous to label any light red wine "Pinot". Sure, Pinot has an incredible flavour spectrum, but it is almost never without a certain leanness that I call "stalky" to perennial blank faces. Anyway, I knew this wasn't a Pinot, but I was wrong in a completely different way. Raisins on the nose, a cabernet like palate of cassis and cedar wood, but tasting as if it's best days were only just behind it. A lesser left-bank Bordeaux, perhaps? No, an Argentinian Malbec. There you have it. Annoyingly we were all required to guess the price. £8? £12 (my guess)? £18? No, apparently £4, heavily discounted from the University Club's bin end sale! Bastard.
2001 Roda II Rioja Riserva
Have you ever wanted to take the good stuff from one wine you like and discard the crap in favour of the good element of another wine you like? I have. I love the warmth of Rioja, the smooth, hospitable palate of plums and chocolate. But I don't much care for American oak. It just makes the wine taste horsey, bitter and even a little sour. So hats of to this wine, matured as it is in French oak. What a wise choice. Brick red (no rusty oxidation here!), brickish, chocolatey nose with a hint of orange peel. The palate is warm and seductive and ends with the most elegant of tannins, rather than Don Quixote's socks.
2005 Marigny-Neuf Cabernet (Haut-Poitou)
Who says you can't make a silk purse out of the sow's ear that is Cabernet Franc? This is a great wine. It tastes like a full-blown cabernet from the new world somewhere (Chile, maybe?) The skill is that maximum extraction from the grapes has been achieved, whilst maintaining balance. Quite lovely.
1988 Quinta de la Rosa Vintage Port
Another one courtesy of Justin, and a lovely way to end the evening. Raisins, cinnamon and hot cross buns on the nose. Forward sweet fruit and Christmas cake on the palate.
I remember now (2 days after the event) that there was a lovely Vin Doux Naturel that I wanted to review but I didn't take a note of it. It tasted like sherry.
Anyway that's all for now - any of my other friends moving any time soon?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)